


Local disaster gay walks into yet another bookcase

by Aethelar



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Graves' sexiness is a health and safety hazard, Librarian!Newt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 10:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21160028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aethelar/pseuds/Aethelar
Summary: Newt is a librarian. Graves is that one hot guy that borrows books from him.





	Local disaster gay walks into yet another bookcase

Newt’s job is driving him insane. Insane! No one can be expected to work under these conditions. It’s inhuman. Torture. It contravenes the Geneva conventions and Newt isn’t even at war, that’s how bad it is.

Because how, please, is one supposed to maintain professional decorum and appropriate distance from one’s customers when one’s customers are Percival Fucking Graves. It’s not physically possible. The man is _illegal._

Just. Just look at him. Look at him and appreciate the daily struggle that is Newt’s life. Who knew working in libraries could be so hard? Not Newt, oh no, he thought he was signing up for friendly old ladies and cardigans when he took this job, not temptation and permanently uncomfortable trouser situations.

Trust him, you don’t want to know.

And it’s not like Graves even does anything! He just comes in, polite as you please, checks out a ridiculous pile of ridiculous books from the short loan section and commandeers a table in the corner, and then proceeds to spend the next four hours alternatively frowning at his books or glaring into space in concentration (space which, it just so happens, Newt _occupies_ do you have any idea what it does to him to casually look up from his computer and find Eyebrows McGee smouldering at him like a vengeful wet dream, Newt honestly wasn’t sure if he was going to have a stroke or come in his pants) - once, once Graves took his glasses off and _rubbed_ at his _eyebrows_ with his _own thumbs_ doesn’t he know that Newt is literally queuing up to do that for him how dare he do it to himself.

Newt can manage. Newt is a _librarian_ this grants him superhuman powers, he will Survive. 

He will also, apparently, walk into a bookcase because of nothing at all and certainly not because he glanced over at Graves’ table and saw him chewing his pen.

And, let’s not forget, Newt will fall off a stool - you know, the ones that say _employee use only_ because regular folks can’t be trusted not to fling themselves into space with gay abandon when Graves starts biting his lip in concentration, those stools - anyway Newt will fall off a stool and he absolutely can’t think why how dare you call him out like this.

And sure, Newt may faceplant in the middle of the floor with nothing to trip over except his shoelaces, but that’s _no reason at all_ to blame it on the fact that Graves bent over to get a book from the bottom shelf and his _ass_ it belongs in a museum in Italy, bringing it to Newt’s tiny and unprepared library is _overkill_ \- nothing at all to do with that! Newt just. He just felt like taking a nap. On the floor. With an armful of books scattered around him. As. As pillows. Yeah.

“I am begging you,” Newt tells his reflection as he attempts to stem the bleeding from his nose in the bathroom. “For the love of all things sane, this has to stop.”

He’ll transfer to the kids section. Yes. Or the fiction section, Graves never goes to fiction - just Newt’s short loan section, always on Newt’s shifts, and he always takes the table in the corner where he can angle himself to frown _directly_ at Newt’s little desk with his little library scanner and his innocent little self that’s being _tormented_ for fucks sake there are things even librarians can’t handle.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, you ok in there?” someone asks.

“Absolutely _spiffing_,” Newt calls back with his head all but upside down to try and keep the blood inside where it belongs. Is he meant to tilt his head forwards? Between his knees? Pinch his nose? Shove a tampon up it? Where would he even get a tampon?

“I got the first aid kit,” the someone says. “I’m sorry for making you fall over.”

What.

Newt rights himself and hauls the door open. “_What._”

With a sheepish smile, Graves holds out a roll of bandages - then he catches sight of the red stain dribbling down Newt’s lip and the smile is replaced by frantic flapping. “Shit, are you -”

“_You,_” Newt accuses, one step away from violently stabbing Graves in the chest with his finger. “You _knew_ what you were doing?”

Graves falters. “Uh,” he says.

“I have been _restraining_ myself for _weeks_ and all this time you were doing it on _purpose_ are you kidding me??”

Graves tries to offer the bandages again - bandages! for a bleeding nose! _ridiculous human being _if he wasn’t so damn_ hot_ \- and his eyebrows crease into a frown that’s partly concern but mostly amused and that’s it. That. Is. _It._

With an inarticulate cry of rage, Newt pushes Graves back until he hits the opposite wall and collapses onto the floor, straddles his lap, and snogs him.

“Oh thank god,” Graves says when they come up for air. “I was running out of books, I thought you’d never get the hint.”

“Did it not occur to you to _ask_ like a normal human being?”

“What, and miss you knocking things over every time I looked your way?” Graves raises an eyebrow and has the audacity - the sheer, unforgivable _audacity_ \- to smirk.

Newt glowers. “I hate you,” he says, and takes advantage of the hand he has on Graves’ (perfectly sculpted) ass to squeeze. It’s meant to be a vicious squeeze but it’s also being slightly crushed against the skirting board so ends up as more of an awestruck caressing sort of squeeze, but. The intent is there.

Graves kisses him again. “You’re adorable,” he assures him. “And you’re also still bleeding.”

Newt mumbles obscenities and stuffs bandages up his nose (ridiculous) and just for that, just for that he decides Graves is paying on their first date and Newt will pick the fanciest thing on the menu just watch him.

If, that is, he makes it to the first date, because once they’re back out in the library and Newt has promised his boss that he’s fine and not going to file a workplace health and safety violation (how does one do a risk assessment form for unfeasibly attractive customers?) - once Newt is back in public and therefore has to _not_ jump Graves’ bones, Graves leans back in his chair with his knees spread _just so_ as he pretends to read a book like the filthy teasing liar he is.

Newt deliberately doesn’t look.

Until damnit, he does, and Graves has given up on his book and is just _sitting_ there, elbow over the back of the chair to pull his shirt up just the tiniest bit and eyebrows low and lips smirking and self satisfied as he watches Newt and -

Whelp, man down. Newt does not survive. He goes down hard and brings the reserved shelf down on top of him as he does. Curled up in a small ball of pain under an avalanche of books, he takes a moment to look back on his life choices and regret.

“You’re a walking _disaster_,” Graves says as he pulls books off him and manhandles Newt back to his feet. He carefully straightens Newt’s shirt - blatant fondling there, absolutely no subtlety - and grins when Newt glares at him.

“Everything about this is your fault,” Newt tells him.

Graves, the bastard, kisses him on the nose (masterfully avoiding the bandage) and doesn’t deny a word of it.


End file.
